


Everything is love

by Thepoetrystudent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thepoetrystudent/pseuds/Thepoetrystudent
Summary: This is a collection of stories about Draco and Hermione's relationship. Based on the songs of Beyoncé and Jay-Z, we will accompany this couple in their worst and best moments of their history. Hapiness and sadness, sickness and health, hurt and forgiviness.**Obviously, I don't own any of this characters or songs. But you can call me Queen B.





	1. 4:44

 

  **4:44**

 

> _My heart breaks for the day I had to explain my mistakes_
> 
> _Jay-Z_

 

I look at my watch and it’s nearly down. How can you sleep when you know you fucked up the best thing you ever had?

The woman that lays besides me is not my wife. She is not as beautiful, as kind and is not even close to have ten per cent of her intelligence.

I should have come home hours ago, right after the funeral. But the minute, no, the second I emptied myself inside her, I knew I had fucked up everything. As a former Slytheryn, I should be able to lie myself out of this situation. I should and certainly would if it was anyone else, but not with my wife. I have a greater chance of being forgiven for the cheating than for disrespecting her intelligence with empty lies. Because my wife, I can guarantee you, already knows. She is the brightest f them all.

Astoria stirs on the bed and I decide that is finally time to man up and face my acts. So, I leave my spot and begin collecting my clothes and dressing up. It is time to go home.

 

....

I can feel her before I even see her. She is sitting on the side of the fireplace dressed in black. She hates black because of the amount of funerals we were forced to attend during the war. Why is she wearing it? I didn’t want anyone in the funeral. Just me and that bastard.

I look at her. My heart breaks. I can see the lines in her face, the lines that the muggle make up left. New scars.

The silence is suffocating me. All I want to do is crawl to her and beg for forgiveness and cry and ask her to yell at me. But I know everything that is about her: body, mind and soul. I must talk. She will want to know everything.

“What do you want to know first?” I ask softly while I pour myself firewhiskey and offer the other to her. Oddly, she doesn’t drink it. She looks straight into my eyes and correct her spine. She is on war mode.

“For the first time in my life I wish I didn’t know. Being a know it all is a burden for the first time.”

She is on her feet now. The glass in her hand. She is having trouble to breath.

“Because I know it all already. You know, of course. I am aware that you run to that blond whore that has nothing more than good hair in her head. That instead of trust in me, confide in me, yell at me, cry with me, talk to me, fuck me, you opted to put your dick inside another to not deal with your feelings. I know every insecurity that drove you to her. I know because I kissed every scar. Over and over again. So the only thing”

Her voice breaks and she sobs. I can’t breathe because she can’t. And I fucking feel it. The pain. She takes a deep breath.

“The only thing that last to ask you is…was it good? Was it worth it ending our marriage because of a fucking whore?”

“Baby, I…”

I don’t have words. What can I tell her?

“TELL ME. BE A MAN AND FUCKING TELL ME THAT YOU CUM SO HARD THAT MADE IT ALL WORTH IT. TELL ME THAT HER PUSSY WAS SO TIGHT THAT YOU FOUGHT NOT TO CUM. TELL ME THAT THIS FUCKING SHAG WAS WONDERFUL. THAT YOU DON’T REGRET IT BECAUSE IT WAS MIND BLOWING. THE BEST YOU EVER HAD. THAT SHE COULD MAKE IT ALL GO AWAY LIKE I NEVER COULD IN THOSE COLD NIGHTS DURING THE WAR… TELL ME ECAUSE I AM BLEEDING INSIDE OUT. I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN RIGHT NOW THAT I FEEL LIKE I BROKE EVERY BONE IN MY BODY. I CAN’T. TELL ME. PLEASE.”

My body is shaking. I feel like my lungs are on fire. I feel like being crucio. I feel like her being kidnapped again. I feel her pain.

But I have to make it worst. So I speak. I tell her.

“I regretted it the moment I spilled myself inside of her. I just wanted the pain to stop. I don’t want to mourn his death and still. I can’t. I can’t feel, I shouldn’t feel, but I feel. There is only pain.”

She drags herself from the floor. Her hair is wild. I love it so much. I love her so much. All of her. I almost died to rescue her. I betrayed every single person of my family because of her. I killed my uncles because of her. She is my life. How did I not know she was the only one who could make it stop? She was the only one who could after mom killed herself. She is the only one who can make it all go away.

“Pain?I will tell you what pain is.” She hisses.

And I feel my anger boil inside me. And I cut her speech off before she can continue.

“The monster I used to call my father was tortured and killed in the prison that I helped put him in. He, who hurt me like no one else, who drove my mom to suicide. So, yes, you are right. I don’t know pain.”

I stare at her and wait for the end of it. Wait for the screams. But ,for my surprise, she speaks really low.

“Pain is feeling sad because of the death of the man who watched you being broken to pieces. Pain is loving someone so much that you pray for the life of this horrible person because his son is the air that you breathe. Pain is waiting outside of the room that your husband is having sex with another woman. Is hearing him cum inside someone else.”

The glass crashed in her hands and her blood begin to fall in the floor.

“Pain, Draco, is being cheated on the same night you’ve found out that you are pregnant.”


	2. Pray you catch me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's POV

 

_You can taste the dishonesty_

 

_Beyoncé_

  


Knowing everything is a huge burden. I discover it when I was only eleven and my friend and I tried to stop a madman from getting the most powerful stone in the world. The knowledge about the danger in misidentification of potions ingredients made every step hell. A cartoon I used to read in my childhood said that with great powers comes great responsibilities. This used to be my go-to philosophy, but after the war, after erasing my parents' memory because I knew they would be killed otherwise… I say knowledge is hell.

 

So the moment I received the note from Harry telling me that Lucius had been tortured and stabbed and was in his deathbed, I just knew that my husband would flip. That's what happens when people don't deal properly with the emotions and ignored until you are drowning in regret and sorrow. And my husband is the king of putting his feelings inside of a box and burying it deep inside his mind, just like Severus thought him years before. I told him over and over that he should go and yell at his father's face after Narcissa suicide. I begged him to talk with a psychologist. I asked him to at least send the blond bastard a letter. But, no, he just could not move his big stubborn head.

 

I am not a healer, I am a high-class lawyer that works in both words - wizard, and muggle. However, being an obsessive reader, I know from looking in his medical report that the prejudiced prick ain't going to make it. Serves him right, I should think. Nevertheless, all I can think about is Draco and how this will shatter him and, as much as I think that my son-of- bitch-in-law should be consumed by flames in hell, my husband does not deserve to lose his father two years after his mother's suicide.

 

Because of him, I found myself praying to some god, Merlin, Jesus, Buda, anyone to let him live a little longer. I pray for the recovery of someone who hates me for just being, someone who watch me bleed on the floor of his house when I was only seventeen. The person who laughed when a werewolf announced that he should be the last to rape me so that he could eat what was last of me. I go to my quiet place and I can hear mom telling me that the real struggle as Christians is to pray for the ones you hate. I wonder if she ever realized how hard it really is to do this. Till today, I thought that, after the war, I wasn't going to be able to pray again.

  
  


But in spite of my disbelief, I pray because of this man, my husband. He carried me through my survivor anger, he lifted me up when I had a miscarriage and discovered a new pain. My unborn baby. He stayed by my side, always, betraying everything he was taught to believe. So, today, I pray for this awful man to survive. He has to live, at least, until his son arrives and talk to him in order to get some real closure. Draco needs to make peace with his father to move on. Please, please, God, we already suffered enough.

 

That's the last thing I can remember before everything goes black.

 

…….

  


I know he will shut me down before he even opens his mouth to speak. He is on his PTSD mode; blaming himself for everyone's death, trying to make me go away because he thinks I cannot understand his guilt and sorry. Every time he feels ashamed for loving his family he tries to make me go away based on the dumb notion that he does not deserve me. He is looking at me with concern, his stupid “I am ok” mask is on and he asks me what the doctor said. Nothing hurts me more like this fake smile on his face while a beg him to tell me how he really is.  The mask stays on and I do not deserve to look at it now, not when this should be the most joyful and painful moment of our lives. People always define me by my intelligence and rationality, however, through my twenty-seven years of existence, my feelings always got the best of me. Anger or love, I was always transparent and could never rule my mouth and not tell what people were not ready to listen. Not this time though. I absolutely hate masks of indifference, pure reason, without feeling, is what justified a lot of the horrors of the world. So I keep my secret for now because we deserve real, human.

 

I close my eyes as I listen to him making his case about not wanting me in his father's funeral. I am so tired. Ten years after we got back together in that tent in the middle of the war, we are still fighting the same battle. He is trying to make it look like it is for my benefit when we both know he cannot deal with hurt and wants to do it on his own. I argue him, tell him that I am the strongest person he knows and that I can carry his sorrow. I tell him that it is ok to hurt for his father.  I can deal with his mess: the anger and the hurt. I am not only good with the happiness and joy part. I wish he listens to me, really listens.

  


Of course, he doesn't.

  


………

  


Einstein was absolutely right in his theory of relativity. I am sure that if someone measured all the events of today, every people involved in them would tell you that it lasts ages, hundreds of years.

 

The funeral lasted only one hour but it felt like forever. The thing about marriage, especially, with me is disregarding all that your stupid husband says and being there for him. Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he locked the floo connections to the house. Even if he can’t see you because you are under your best friend’s invisible cloak. I am never one to follow orders so I watch him sitting beside his father’s coffin. I watch him not cry or yell or talk. I am a voyeur to his masked pain in my black dress. The one I swear I would not use again after Fred’s funeral. Lucius may not deserve it, but his son does. I hope Harry is right and there is an afterlife. I hope he realizes his mistakes even if we are not present to witness it. From my hidden spot, besides the fireplace, I see my husband perform the death rituals. I watch as he pays his dead father homage. I finally see a tear when the body disappears. I don’t know how many hours have passed (or maybe it was minutes?) but I wake up to a slightly drunk Draco calling what I think is Blaise address.

 

Idiot. Blaise and Daphne are in Italy this time of year and since he made sure nobody knew about what happened because he didn’t want attention and love, he will only find the blonde bimbo home. She is the one who looks after the house – aka throw parties – when her sister and brother-in-law are in Italy. I think I will go home and wait for him. He is going there after realizing his best friend is not home to drown in firewhisky with him.

 

On my way home, I just can’t shake off the disappoint. Why does he feel he can’t lean on me? Why he seeks shelter in anyone but me? After Narcissa, I thought we were over this bullshit. This is so frustrating. For the first time in years, I think that my relationship might not be so strong as I believed it to be. It’s an unsettling thought to have at this important moment in our lives.  

 

Why my husband doesn’t want me to hold him together in his worst moment?

 

….

  
  


Two am.

 

Looking at my watch, I realize he should have been home. I am not the control freak everybody seems to think of me. But this is an important situation and, after waiting for hours in our home, I decided to go to Blase’s house looking for him. I was so sure that once he found out that his best friend was not at home he would come to me. Today is an odd day in this marriage or maybe I am just off my Draco game because he is proving me wrong in every fucking decision he made today. God, I just want this awful night to be over and lay in bed with my husband. There must be some a law that allows pregnant women peace and quiet inside her husband arms in the day that they found out they are expecting, especially the ones that didn't think they could carry a child after being hurt in war, right?  Is it too much to ask?

 

   Although I want to punch that blonde git in the face right now for making me come to rescue his drunk ass, I am so anxious to tell him he is going to be a dad. Him and Harry. They both felt so guilty because of the aftermath of the war. For two people who hated it each other for the most part of their lives, they are so similar in the way they feel responsible for the actions of mad people that they could nothing to stop.    

 

Something is off. As soon as I enter, my gut tells me something is off. I don’t know why but I never get goosebumps for good purpose. Maybe, I am crazy. The Italian man must have found out about the funeral and came back to be with his friend. They were always so close, almost as Harry and me. If he's here, they should be at the library drinking. If Blaise is here, they must be in the library and pretty drunk. I will never be able to understand why Daphne and he thinks is a good idea to drink near the books. I don’t know if it is an Italian thing or a pureblood thing.

 

I am in front of the library door when I hear him for the first time. Of course, I know his sounds. All of them. Denial strike me and I try to convince myself that he would never do that to me, he knows what my unforgivables are. He knows I am a forgiving person but not a saint. I am losing my mind, this fucking day has been too long; I must be delusional. Sleep deprivation is a real problem and makes people hear and listen to things that are not real. This must be it.

 

A moan. I hear it again. Fucking hell. Is this really happening to me? Am I really this cursed person? I want to turn my back and just go home. For the second time, I don’t want to know. Why my mind is so fast? Why was my life doomed with this brain? I can hear the bed. I know it is him. Jesus. I curse all the Gods. This must be some kind of ancient Greek curse that comes with my name. I must be - as the women in the tragedies - destiny to suffer. I hear her voice too. Is she the reason he doesn’t come to me for comfort and love?  I read this all wrong.

 

But maybe, it is not him? He must have left when he found out she was the only one home. I should leave and left her finish, by the sounds she is making is obvious that she is close. I am not functioning well. Draco would never ever do this to me again, not after the war. He wouldn’t throw my forgiveness on the trash.  I stop and turn to leave. Fuck. His blazer is on the floor. What are you doing my love?

 

This pain. This must be death, finally. Is it possible to break a heart twice?  Why is he doing this to me again? This time there's no psychopath threatening his family. I am going to die here outside her bedroom door listening to my husband fill her.  I will lay here as the mother of my children, both living and dead. The cheated wife. The imbecile who prays for him while he enjoys his mistress pussy. My god was not listening. Is there a heaven? Is there love without betrayal?

 

I could kill them both right now. I should but I won't. This child will be born. Nobody is going to take it from me. Not even this lying cheating bastard. So, for now, apathy. I will go home. I will wait for his tears of regret in my home. I can’t face them without hurting my child. My miracle baby. My little hope does not deserve this.

  


I feel the taste of bile in my mouth as soon as I enter the floo. Dishonest does not leave a good taste in my mouth. As my body hit the floor, I pray again. I am falling in darkness, so I pray.  Pray he catches me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't write in English, it is not my first language, so, I apologize for the mistakes. Kind comments, corrections and constructive criticism are always welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don't write in english, it is not my first language, so, I apologize for the mistakes. Kind coments, corrections and constructive criticism are always welcome.


End file.
